


I've Been Calling You For My Shot Gun

by cyrusbarrone



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Gen, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrusbarrone/pseuds/cyrusbarrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't like how the movies suggested, there was the rotting people and the death on a large scale, but there wasn't the biting or shotguns. Just shotguns to the head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Been Calling You For My Shot Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Just to warn you, this was written at like midnight and is probably in a weird sort of order, but whatever.
> 
> (Title from My Chemical Romance - Bury Me in Black)

Everywhere had the same dreadful smell now, the putrid smell of rotting meat and the overall smell of death. When it had started a couple of months ago, the smell of death was new and unknown, it was an unnatural thing for people to smell, but now people were used to it. The rotting and the death was now as common as flowers and coffee used to be.

The house reeked of it, probably more than the abandoned ones did. When Gerard had died from infection they hadn't moved out, just moved up a floor from where his body was. They had to go past it sometimes, when they went on supply runs. Mikey didn't go on supply runs, he couldn't look at how his brother was disintergrating and becoming maggot food. Ray hardly liked it either, but someone had to steal cans from the neighbour whose cats were eating from her corpse.

The house belonged to someone that none of them had met before. There were pictures on the walls, expensive family portraits displaying the family of American Dreams. There was a photo smashed on the floor, a photo of two brothers crushed and covered in shattered glass and dried off blood from where Mikey's palm had pressed into the sharp edge.

Ray didn't return one day, and that was that. Mikey refused to leave the top floor, insistent with tears in his eyes that he wouldn't move from the bed that had black mold wet blankets. Frank wanted to leave, to make sure that Ray wasn't going to come back, that or he really was dead. But frank wouldn't leave Mikey, because Mikey wasn't in a fit state to be alone with the smell of his brothers decay in his nostrils.

So, Frank didn't leave, and they never saw Ray again. There weren't even tears shed about it because there were still tears about Gerard, and maybe Ray had wanted to leave and not come back. 

The thing was that it wasn't like in all the films. It wasn't something passed on by a bite, or blood contamination. It was just a horrible case of the flu, one that made your skin rot and your eyeballs begin to disintegrate in soft sockets. Gerard had tried to shoot himself in the head hen he started coughing up blood, began pulling out chunks of blood clumped hair from his scalp. Mikey hadn't let him, he'd huddled him into the corner like a protective mother and stroked his hair, ignoring the fact he was pulling it out and ignoring the fact that his brother was dying in his arms.

Gerard hadn't lasted long. Four days from when he'd started coughing up blood, and in the last two days he hadn't left Mikey's side, he wouldn't let anyone look at him but his brother. When Gerard died, Ray had pried Mikey away from his body and had near gagged a the sight. Gerard had been a living corpse in Frank and Ray's eyes. His eyes had basically rotted away into his skull, his bottom lip had been pulled apart by his teeth and the skin on his forearm was scratched raw and wet with blood. Mikey had only seen his brother, though, Frank figured as he recalled their quiet whispers the day after Gerard was ill. 

Mikey and Frank didn't eat for two days, the cans of food were rotting and foul like every other damned thing. They held hands though, under the damp green blanket they'd stolen from what had been Ray's bed. Mikey held his hand so tight and whispered nonsense into his shoulder until his last shirt was wet with saliva and snot.

Frank's ribs started showing again, four days after Ray had gone and a day after he'd started getting sick of the smell of Gerard. His stomach had sucked in, pale and concave and skin tight around his ribcage. Mikey was possibly worse, bones sharp and clear even through his jacket, and Frank ran his fingers gently over the obvious bumps when he didn't know what else to do.

Mikey got sick two days after that, not from lack of food, it was slick dark blood hacked up from his throat and blackened lungs. It stained his teeth and mouth red, and their toothbrushes had become useless when water had become scarce.

They had kissed when it was only his teeth stained in blood, desperate and needy on both sides as panic started to settle deep into their stomachs. Frank had started crying when his fingers tugged on his friends hair and some pulled out, slick and sticky with blood. Their kiss tasted of sea salt, and Mikey's hand was tight on Frank's hip.

Mikey cried when his eyes started going, pulling back wetly into his skull until there was blood dripping in ugly lines down the greying colour of his face. There weren't tears after that, only empty black sockets and track marks of red.

Frank carefully feeds Mikey a live rat the day later, he ripped the fur off the thing with his teeth until rodents blood dripped down his chin and blemished his shirt further. Frank felt full after two bites and Mikey couldn't eat it, wouldn't move his head from where it was pressed to the dip of Frank's stomach.

Mikey starts to smell of decay two days after that, and when he speaks his voice is garbled and wet sounding with blood that got all over Frank's shirt. He requested, 'shoot yourself, frank, don't let this happen to you,' and Frank promised and ran his fingers through what was left of the blonde hair on his best friends head, his fingers pressing against the soft and rotting skull carefully, delicately.

When Mikey dies it's in a pile of his own sick, he's thrown up blood and rot and he doesn't look like Mikey anymore and Frank doesn't feel like Frank as he pushes the corpse to the floor and ignores the grim face.

He doesn't feel like Frank when he presses his finger tips to Mikey's forehead and they break through the delicate skull into the mush of his brain. It took Mikey six days to die, and Gerard four. Frank wonders how long it's taken Ray, because he didn't even take a second to die. The bang was loud and then he was gone. Not in rotting pain, not prolonged, just gone.


End file.
